Blood in a Box..(so hate this poem-_-)

Blood poor from your fingers
You haven't a clue why

Shaking as it puddles up on the floor
You see something rise from the blood

A box that wasn't truely a box
With silver sides and a black scorched lid

A stone on the top just big enough to fit
Moons and stars cover the top

You reach for it hoping to take grasp
It doesn't slip

Pull it close maybe it'll stop the nonsense
Close your eyes and rub the gem

Count to ten then open your eyes
Now others nothing where blood once lied

To scared to open the box
Knowing its not just a box you squeeze it tight

Slide it into your pocket
And walk on

Cause now the bad is all gone